Carl W. Kenney II is an award winning columnist and novelist. He is committed to engaging readers into a meaningful discussion related to matters that impact faith and society. He grapples with pondering the impact faith has on public space while seeking to understand how public space both hinders and enhances the walk of faith.

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Gentrification: It's complicated

[Delvecchio Faison is the artist who painted "The Only Constant is Change". The painting depicts the impact of gentrification in Durham, NC. To see more of Faison's work, go to Faison's instagram page here]

Gentrification is complicated.

For some, it’s the celebration of communities that rise from
the ashes after decades of decay. For others, it’s the displacement of black
and brown people to make space for white people fixated on life closer to the
action.

There are stories that relate both the good and the bad regarding
gentrification. Some talk about the reduction of crime and fine dining and
coffee shops in those buildings that were eyesores before the growth. Others
talk about skyrocketing housing cost and the changing demographics. Where did
the black folks go?

As municipalities grapple with ways to place their arms
around how to discuss what it all means - it’s too much to hug when our arms
are too short.

Capturing the essence of gentrification requires more than
an analysis of current public policy statements. I mean, it’s easy to blame the
boom of inner city growth on corporate entities fueled by greed and an
obsession to dismantle communities. Getting at if that’s fact or fiction
complicates the conversation. Hindsight is 20/20, but can we assume a plot that
imagined all of this?

That too is up for debate.

There are a few givens. Maybe, just maybe, it’s best to
start the conversation with what we know to be true. Again, some will dispute
the truth of my suppositions.

Like some say in their relationship status, it’s
complicated.

A reflection of white
privilege

Here we go.

There’s always danger when a person uses those two words in
the same sentence – white and privilege. It’s one among the many phrases
(systemic racism being another) used to indicate the advantages that come with
being white. It’s perceived as an attack, but these statements are meant to
move things forward in ways that make for a happy union.

Who remembers those good ole days?

White people hate it when black people explain things
related to race (is blacksplaing a thing). Yes, this is a heated discussion accompanied
with “what you mean I got privilege when I was born poor down in rural
Mississippi?” In other words, “I got mine, and don’t blame me”.

But, that’s not the point. What is the point when I assert
gentrification reflects what it means to function with white privilege? It
conveys the power of naming worth and marketability.

A community labeled as blight becomes a gold mine when given
the sanction of white people. Their approval of worth radically shifts the
value of property. These communities are no longer quantified as havens of
massive poverty, prostitution and drug related problems. Once named as diamonds
in the rough, they become hotspots for hipsters willing to transform these
communities into those shinny diamonds.

The power of their privilege is in making their dreams come
true. Their very presence is enough to convince others to make the journey into
the land oozing with potential. The power of white privilege is in their
numbers. Being there is enough to attract others.

“If Becky and Harvey say it’s safe, it must be safe. Right?”

But, there’s more.

A reminder of
systemic racism

Getting to the what requires considerable reflection on the
how. In other words, how did we get here in the first place?

Let’s begin with my owning the “here we go again”.

Systemic racism is another one of those terms that budges
the rage of some white people. How dare you blame it all on a system, when you
blacks have failed to do your part.

This is where I insert rolling eyes and comments about your
great-granddaddy. But, let’s press forward.

As much as we hate pondering the implications of history,
how we got here is critical in fully understanding why and how gentrification
is a burden rooted in historical and systemic racism. It is part of an ongoing
practice of public policies that hinder the advances of black families. It
echoes the manufacturing of policies aimed at maneuvering the placement of
black bodies to extend profit for white people.

Be it government policies that denied black soldiers GI
Bills after serving in the military, public policies that redlined areas
acceptable for blacks to live, the construction of black ghettos to cage black
folks into manageable areas for law enforcement to sustain a system of systemic
poverty, urban renewal projects that eradicated black business districts across
the nation or the exodus that drew masses of white people to suburban
communities after the integration of public schools – housing in America has
been used, both historically and today, to foster systems used to maintain
systemic racism and economic disparity.

Gentrification continues the American legacy of moving black
bodes to benefit space utilized to profit white business interest. Regardless
of the intent and motivation, understanding gentrification necessitates an
evaluation that reflects the history and context of housing trends in
manifesting the power of white privilege and systemic racism.

Undoing the stigma of
ghetto

Now comes the tough part. Like I said, this is tough work
that requires more than a causal glare.

As much as this is about white privilege and systemic
racism, it is also about how we name space. Historically, black space is demonized
in ways that signify unwelcoming environments to be avoided. The perception of
space to escape is displayed as part of the lore of black America.

The ghetto is the escape of “moving on up” for the “Jefferson’s”
and the dream of the characters in “Good Times”. The movement away from black
space, into the world of white America, is the evidence of making it. The
movement out is proof of success beyond the restrictive play of ghetto life.

The “ghetto” is a place of confinement under strict
regulations and restrictions. These are quarters of overcrowded housing and
extreme poverty. These are places where the justice system has a different set
of rules to limit movement among those grappling to find ways to break free.

Notwithstanding the terms used to define these communities,
the virtues related to living in “the hood” outweigh the categorization of
those who call it home. The naming of the public persona of the boys and girls
who live in the hood is a matter that deserves critical critique beyond the
negative nuances that shape how people think.

But, this is a discussion about gentrification. Getting to
the now involves how the power of white privilege is used to undo the stigma
regarding life in the perceived “ghetto”. This is about the renaming of black
space. This is about undoing the shame of life in space carved out and redlined
to advance an agenda aimed at protecting the interest of white people. This is
about changing the rhetoric involving black space as part of a public policy
agenda.

Thus, this is, in some ways, about the construction of terms
to undermine black space to foster policies to police and incarcerate black men
and women. This is about demonizing areas, and the people who live there, to regulate
their movement.

What you trying to
say?

I’m glad you asked.

The questions and solutions related to gentrification go
much deeper than many assume. Like most of what fractures America, it all comes
back to America’s unwillingness to concede how race and racism shows up in
practices and public policies that support systemic racism.

There he goes again, blaming it all on racism.

Sorry, but a casual study of American history brings us back
to the core of all our problems.

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Carl W. Kenney II

Carl was named the best serious columnist of 2011 by the North Carolina Press Association for his work with the News & Observer's community paper The Durham News and in 2016 by the Missouri Press Association for his columns in the Columbia Missourian. He is a columnist with the News & Observer and Co-Executive Producer of "God of the Oppressed" an upcoming documentary film on black liberation theology. He is a former Adjunct Professor at the University of Missouri - School of Journalism and Adjunct Instructor at Duke University, the Center for Documentary Studies. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Missouri-Columbia. He furthered his education at Duke University and attained a Master of Divinity. He was named a Fellow in Pastoral Leadership Development at the Princeton Theological Seminary on May 14, 2005. He is a freelance writer with his commentary appearing in The Washington Post, Religious News Services,The Independent Weekly and The Durham Herald-Sun. Carl is the author of two novels: “Preacha’ Man” and the sequel “Backslide”.
He has led congregations in Missouri and North Carolina